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Cardea Sientel
Description Cardea stands short of the average woman, her body made small and lithe from extensive studies. Her found face is complimented by piercing green eyes. Her hair is tied back, and tucked underneath her robe. Her clothing is simple, with the only distinguishable article being her cloak and bag, both of which look like they have been stitched together from several tanned and black-dyed hides and lined with fur. Personality Cynical and inquiring. Cardea prefers to keep others at a distance, while observing their behavior, whether it be those she must work for or with, or those she fights. She pursues knowledge above all else, enough that it has on more than one occasion costed her her health. Her personality is reflected much in her tactics; to bring someone beneath her level if she carries disdain for them, and crush them beneath her heel. Despite this, she does her best to keep things on even terms with those she associates with; she cannot stand being in-debt to someone, and does not like the idea of others wanting to bother her with any sort of reward, other than payment. Abilities Collegiate Wizard, Precocious Apprentice, Spell Focus (Necromancy), Cold Focus, Greater Cold Focus, Corpsecrafter, Skill Focus (Spellcraft), Greater Spell Focus (Necro) Familiar, Favored School: Necromancy, Barred Schools: Enchantment, Illusion *MASTER SPECIALIST-Expanded Spellbook (2nd Level), Minor School Esoterica: +4 Turn Resist, Expanded Spellbook (4th Level) Possessions Spell Component Pouch (5gp), Noble's Outfit w/ Signet Ring(80gp), Onyx/Sapphire Earrings/Necklace (220gp), Grappling Hook (x2), Silk Rope (50 ft.), Flint and Steel, Magic Items WANDS: Mage Armor, Identify, True Strike, Hold Portal, Benign Transposition, Fist of Stone, Rod of Fell Drain Metamagic (9,000gp), Heward's Handy Haversack (2,000gp), Healing Belt (750gp), Everfull Mug (200gp), Everlasting Rations (350gp) , Bag of Tricks, Brown (900gp), Everburning Torch (110gp) history You have, of course, the Old Man archetype, who hides in caves and plans to overrun cities and those who called him a fool for making 'such strides' in the Art. People who run their body ragged because it took them so long to discover our ways, and because they are obviously dumb enough to preach it to others without any notion of common sense. That is the first. Then there is the Archetype of anybody who succumbs to the Art. The first tenant I was taught was to never fall prey to it. To master it, without becoming it. That means no partial anatomy changes, nor what others do, and become a Lich; a thing of magic and death. Our kind strives to master the art, and those who become like this will eventually fall for the same reasons as the Old Man, or be bent to the will of people like me. Then there is the third common Archetype; a 'White' Necromancer. These people are okay, but still come to our Art with some sense of morality and wrong and right. In order to perfect our Ways, you cannot have it in these terms. There is a good and bad in all things, and the Art is one of them. No, I am a fourth Archetype. I am a student. A teacher. And most of all, stronger for it, and not because of it. My Art is the same Art passed down through my family. I am a wielder of magic first, and a Student of Death second. I admit, I have not had much luck with having others see the upside to what I do, but in time, people will change, just as the Art predicts. But I get ahead of myself. I am Claire Sientel. Necromancer. I was born to the North; where ice and snow stifle any growth that cannot overcome adversity; this applies to both plants, animals and people. If you cannot be strong, or learn to be strong, it will kill you. This was something I had drilled into me when I was young, and is something I keep in mind when I move forward. My Parents were there; I was no Orphan. I was not a Noble, nor a Peasant. They were kind folk, and I write to them often, but they are not where my tale leads. At a young age, I took to magic. I took to books and tomes and scriptures and scrolls and I ate up the knowledge it held. My tutor was a man named Mortimer Phoenix. He used to be a Soldier, but unbeknownst to others before he retired, he was, in truth, a Scholar of the Arcane. He simply could use it in such a manner that fooled his fellow men. He was wise and kind, which was something I needed to counter my distance from others. Time grew on, and as a child, I have forever ahead of me. Mortimer did not, and as I learning my first few spells, meager spells that someone years ahead of me would start learning, he faded from my life. I had taken up the last few years of his life, I had come to terms with, and that touched me in a way I was not comfortable with. I became distraught, unfocused and... sad. I wanted Mortimer back. This, in truth, is something you could see in many fables and stories, but it stands for me: I took up the art of Necromancy. I learned the ways of Death itself, becoming more and more focused. Years passed, and my cunning only waned in that of producing fiction through my magic. I wielded power over life; it was brute force, in a way, and it didn't bother me that I lost ways to deceive others. Not to say that I look down upon it; just that... I don't need to use it. At the age of twenty, I began to look into who Mortimer was, to see if there was someone who could help me learn more about the man who I trusted more than anyone. I began meeting people who he served with, met their wives, met their daughters, and on some accounts, I unfortunately had the unpleasantness of meeting their sons. I began to piece more and more of who Mortimer was, which only drove my more to learning how to bring him back. I knew Mort well enough that he enjoyed life too much, and that Death was something that was an annoyance of the highest caliber. He had done good to me, and I planned to return his kindness. A year had passed, and I was contacted by someone who has been... well, for lack of a better term, a benefactor. He gives me paths to take, tasks to complete, stringing me along behind employer after employer. I have begun referring to him as Jamison. Jamison has been leading me on to meet people and go to places, helping me piece Mortimer's life together more and more, while forcing me, each time, to expand my horizons of Necromancy. It has been enlightening, to say the least. This past week, I was given a letter from him, informing me of a fortune to be made with... and I'm sorry, this is news to me, that these could be a threat... of a fortune to be made with hunting down 'Worms'. Apparently, there has been a recent discovery of them in large numbers. I would rather not go, seeing as they are simple burrowing creatures no longer than my hand, but if Jamison says to go, then it is better to listen to him. Category:Humans Category:Necromancers